request: wash and locus, mybe. 13 off the prompt list but do whatever!
prompt: “it’s okay, you know. if you need to vent”
pairing: postwar!locus x civilian!farmer!reader
word count: ~1k
summary: locus needed to make things right, to make up for all the wrong he had caused. showing up on your doorstep on the brink of death was not his idea of a second chance, but maybe it’s a start.
warnings: season 13 end spoilers, out of lore writing, hardly proof-read, plot? what plot?, locus' real name (is that a spoiler?), open ending but there will be a second part
notes: Hey!!! Hey…I’m back (how many times will I be saying this?). Thank you to all who still interact with my page and have been so patient with my works, I appreciate you all. This one is sort of an opening for a more in-depth continuation that I have in the works, but I figured this would be a good start. I lost the original anon request, so I hope they find this somehow!
—
Finding a man dead on your doorstep when you got back from your scavenging trip was not how you were expecting to start your winter.
Finding out that the dead man was alive, well, you could always use more hands in the kitchen.
It’s been two weeks since you found the armored man in the front yard of your farm, a trail of red stained into the first snowfall of the season following after him.
At first, you thought he was dead. He wouldn’t move, and didn’t wake for the first few days you dragged his body to your couch. But he had a pulse, and that meant you had the duty to take care of him.
Although you didn’t have much medical expertise, you at least knew that if there’s a hole leaking red, it needs to get patched. The issue? He had a lot of them. If you had the time (when you weren’t busy making sure he didn’t bleed out), you would have guessed he fought a very, very, very, long battle.
He woke on the third day.
You were in the kitchen throwing together dinner, when you had the sudden urge to check on him. Turning from the stove, your heart nearly stopped when you saw the tall man in the doorway.
You didn’t hear him.
He was gripping the knife you had found him with, holding it up to you as a threat. His weight leaned against the wall, barely able to keep himself up. He demanded your name, where his armor was, why you saved him.
All you did was ladle soup into a bowl and hand it to him.
–
“Not like that– dice them, not maul them.”
“Mm.”
Now in the present, you’ve become the designated care-taker of Locus (A name that truly wasn’t his anymore, one he grunted out begrudgingly when you asked), playing nurse and helping him get back into the ‘normalcy’ of things.
You both are currently in your small kitchen, which feels even smaller now with his imposing frame. A pot of water boils to the side, a nice background noise to the very animated talk the two of you are having.
“Dump them into the pot.”
“Hm.”
“Not all at once, it’s going to splash.”
A grunt.
“What did I tell you?” You let out a sigh, grabbing a towel and passing it to him. You learned very quickly that he doesn’t like to be coddled, opting for letting him clean up his own mistakes. In this case; burning water on his arm.
You laid very clear ground rules at the start; you help him, he’ll help you. You’ve at least considered the injuries he’s still recovering from, not forcing him to do any heavy labor that you plan for further into winter. If he stays that long.
A silence falls between you two, vegetables floating to the top of the pot as you take over. Pouring in a bowl of mixed spices, you gently stir the contents with an old wooden spoon. The heat lowers to a simmer, bubbles audibly calming down. You don’t notice him watching you.
With a sigh, you wipe your hands on your apron and turn to him with a weak smile. He’s patting his arm down slowly, before neatly folding it and placing it back onto the counter.
“Now, onto the crust.”
–
Meal time has become a more intimate moment for you ever since the soldier has found his way into your life, times once spent eating alone now filled with mindless chatter (more of you rattling on about your work while he occasionally feels like sharing a grunt).
Tonight, after sharing a wonderfully baked shepherd's pie (he’s been getting better in the kitchen), you sit on the couch re-wrapping his wounds. In the back of your head you have the feeling that a soldier like himself should know how to take care of himself, but you don’t mind the close proximity. You don’t think he minds either.
Once finished with his arm, you grab the jar on the table filled with salve, taking another swipe of it with your fingers and moving to his chest. He lets out a hiss when you press too deep.
“Sorry,” You mumble out, gently dapping at a scar just below his collarbone.
The fire crackles softly in the background, the warmth beating at your back like a comforting blanket.
The silence which usually lays heavy over you both is lighter tonight. He hasn’t grumbled rudely in the past hour; you consider that a personal victory.
When you finish wrapping his chest, you move onto the final, and biggest, wound on him. It rests just above his pelvis, veering close to his left hipbone. It looked like a mangled stab wound; an answer you would never get since he refuses to share the stories about any of them.
His abs flex instantly when you start to dab the salve onto his skin, but otherwise remains quiet. You don’t look at his face–too scared that the simple act may be overstepping.
Clearing your throat, you set down the jar and pick up the roll of bandages. Wordlessly you start to unwrap it, lining it up with his waist and starting there.
“You know, Locus…” You start, feeling nervous breaking the already fragile silence. “It’s okay, you know. If you need to vent.”
You don’t dare say anything further, knowing that there’s always a chance he’ll pull out his knife and slash your face for having the audacity of speaking to him.
(He’s never shown violence towards you except for when he first woke; you just get that vibe. He could rock your shit.)
“...”
You gulp.
“Right, sorry, all finished-”
“Samuel.”
A pause. You risk a glance to his face. His brown eyes pierce through you.
“What?”
“My name is Samuel.”
Your mouth gapes open. This is the first time he’s responded with more than just one word, or clipped responses.
It was…a start. Of something new?
Slowly, your lips twitch to a smile. “Right. Samuel.”
You finish wrapping his torso with gentler movement, neither of you commenting on how your hands linger when you’re finished.
Lol, huge Washington fan here. Was wondering if we could have a fic or just some head cannons for him. He's literally my favorite and I would really appreciate just anything for him.
pairing: project freelancer!agent washington x gn!doctor!reader
word count: ~600
summary: he can't get you, the doctor always patching him up, out of his head.
warnings: unidentified plot, secret mutual pining, mention of nightmares, mention of prescription drugs, slight angst if you see it that way, unedited writing, headcanon that wash has blue eyes, i overuse commas, making this while watching a violent asmr video, open ending
notes: Hi.... are you all still here? I've finally gotten back into the grove of writing... kind of! <3 something short but I find it pretty sweet, I'll probably do a continuation of this one later in the future! i've been wanting to do a doctor reader x wash for awhile now, thank you anon for giving me the chance to ^o^ let me know what you guys think!!
---
The sound of a quiet machine humming fills the empty space of the medical bay, everyone out on missions or enjoying a day off in the dining hall.
Agent Washington, however, was spending his evening staring up at the dark ceiling, inspecting the details and structure that made the room while he lay on the less than pleasant infirmary bed.
Stripped of his usual armor, he felt vulnerable— uneasy, but the sound of the automatic door opening with a pair of footsteps he’ll never forget the pattern of instantly puts his mind at ease.
“Wash?” You call out, startled but not surprised to see him on the small cot. He had developed a habit coming to the infirmary when his mind got too crowded, when nightmares chased away his sleep and left him with nothing but panic.
Another reason was to simply see you.
You, a doctor who helps patch up clumsy people like him after a rough mission. So soft spoken and understanding compared to the constant teasing he receives from his team. And your gentle touch, as if afraid to break him more than he already feels he is.
“Hey, Doc.”
A classic nickname he chose for you, using it only so he can see your eyes glint with a playful glare, lips trying to resist a smirk.
He was your most frequent patient, but you never had an issue with that.
Throwing away an orange peel (you just came from dinner, he realized), you make your way to the bed.
Standing at the side, you take in his appearance.
He’s still sporting the bruise from his latest mission, small enough on his jaw to look like a measly bug bite.
His eyes are cloudy, bags deeper than last time he was here.
Nothing too out of the ordinary, you conclude.
“You don’t have a check up until next week. Is something the matter?”
Finally he sits up, legs sliding to rest over the edge of the bed as he stares up at you.
The small pout on your lips makes him want to kiss it away.
“No, I just…”
wanted to see you.
He bites his tongue before the words get out, heart skipping a beat at the idea of speaking his mind. How would you react? Reject him with such a soft tone he can't even be heartbroken? Or maybe, he'll watch your eyes widen as you share the same sentiments, leaning down and brushing your soft lips against his--
He doesn’t realize he gave no response, earning a small sigh from you.
With gentle hands you cup his jaw, tilting his head to examine if there are any sort of external wounds bothering him. Eyes meeting pale blue ones, you quickly advert your gaze.
You had forgotten how beautiful his eyes were. If it wasn't for your self control, you would have told him how they reminded you of the blue skies back at home.
Seeing no issue with his body, you release his head and turn, heading to the locked cabinet on the other wall. A poor excuse to hide your heated face.
You don’t notice him leaning forward after your hands leave his face, seeking more of your warmth, before catching himself.
“Did you have another nightmare?” Softly asking as you rummage through the medicine capsules, waiting for his response before picking.
The simple answer should have been yes. He has nightmares every night, ones that wrack his body in tremors and make him wake in a cold sweat. But lately, they’ve been different.
Instead of moments of war or unbearable pain, it has changed to soft moments with you, a life in the impossible future at each other’s side. Dancing with you under the soft golden haze of the sunset, sharing a cup of coffee in a small house far away from this life, waking up in your arms with no more fears lingering in the back of his mind.
Moments that haven’t happened plague his head, wounding his heart and cursing his brain for giving him hopes for the unattainable. He almost prefers the other nightmares compared to these.
“Something like that,” is his simple response. Giving you a small smile when you turn your gaze back to him, he watches as you come back with the medicine you always prescribe.
I should definitely have a designation, you’re so right. I don’t think you have any other anons so getting first pick is very fun! I also write rvb x reader stuff and I have a whole one for Felix I need to finish.
I will do that! We inspire each other now <3
-🌸 anon
yess first 🌸 anon lets go !!!! (or 🎀 if you want that instead, just because of what you sent me on the other account🦭)
comrades in arm lets finish these fics together💪 i believe in us !!
-an anon who never had a designation but was here before and always wanted to talk to you more <3
ANON. ANON HIIIIII !!!!!!
we need to get you a cool emoji like all the other fancy writers have on their page for their anons, i'll let you decide which one you want >:)
for how i've been doing... well! i've just been really busy with school and what not + expanding my interests with new fandoms !
i'm actually really glad you reached out, you've become my motivation to complete the wash fic i have in my drafts 😼
PLEASEEEEEEE reach out more, i'd love to talk more with you as well !! <3
Say, can we get Agent Texas with prompt 9? Reader can be a freelancer if you want!
prompt: “what are you going to do, shoot me? do it.”
pairing: agent texas x gn!freelancer!reader
word count: 1.02k
warnings: season 10 spoilers, all lowercase, swearing, gun violence, south violence, reader is kind of pathetic, some angst, no use of y/n
notes: this is mostly crack, got more serious in the end though! this is more so just to help me get back into writing for rvb !!! sorry if it’s so rushed, there is literally no plot to this one. more coming soon! 🫀
—
ever since becoming a freelancer, there are some things you’ve just come to never forget.
for starters, never offer to spar with carolina when she’s in a bad mood (or good, either way you get a free ticket to the infirmary).
don’t play along with wyoming’s knock-knock jokes, they’re never good and they just leave you questioning why you still speak with him.
drinking with york always ends up with you waking up to an empty wallet, especially when he and north team up on you.
and lastly, the most important of them all, the sound of kicking ass always means agent texas is nearby.
so when you hear the ship's alarm systems go off, tanks bombing the docks, and the gravity getting powered off? you wish you had york with you to make a bet that it was all because of her.
you had been on your day off when everything started going to shit.
heading to the training grounds (because apparently exercise helps when you’re out on missions) was when the alarms started to go off.
assuming it was the run of the mill invasion from some small organization that had issues with our immoral ways of life, you started to make your way to the shipping docks to make quick work of it, if carolina hadn’t already.
halfway, the ship's gravity goes haywire and you have to float your way there? okay, not as normal.
arriving to see tex absolutely rock a floating tank trying to kill her? what the fuck was going on?
not one to barge into conversations, you happily take your time making yourself known, instead staying at the sidelines watching while the poor tank gets thrown around like a ragdoll.
after witnessing the tank basically bomb itself, you finally decide to get involved (of course, only when you saw tex look your way).
“hey there,” you awkwardly wave, not quite sure how to deal with the raging man-eating woman in front of you. for starters, maybe get on your knees and beg for her not to kill you?
looking down at her gun, your mouth moves before your brain can even catch up, “what are you going to do, shoot me?”
“...”
it’s as if you can hear the confused face she’s making. you and tex never had any problems. sure, she’d kick your ass in training more than you could count, but there was no bad blood between the two of you.
sadly given the circumstances, and all the weird shit happening on the ship, it’s better to be safe than sorry.
“i’m not.. going to shoot you? you’re on my side.” her words sound like a question, like she can’t believe you had said something so stupid.
“oh… right.”
it’s almost as if you forgot the talk you, her and york had prior to this. about how the immoral things your group did was actually worse than you thought it was, and how you were planning to put an end to it all.
it’s not like you were in the wrong though, tex is scary when she fights (and maybe more attractive than you’d like to admit).
“dumbass,” she muttered under her breath as she put her gun back, walking over to you.
“where’s york?” you ask, not out of concern, but out of fear of being alone with tex for any moment longer than you need to be.
how would you know if she decided she didn’t like you anymore and cut off your head? put a bullet straight through your brain? push you against the wall and make out with you?
“making things harder than he needs to be.” as if on cue, the lights flicker and the ship jostles.
you let out a small gasp, stumbling towards tex and grabbing onto her wrist for support. her hand flies to your shoulder to stabilize you, and you can feel your body burn where her hand is.
“hey,” she whispers, her face (helmet?) leaning down to yours.
you gulp.
“y-yeah?” you clear your throat, breathless. oh my god ohmy god ohmygod. are we about to kiss?
“the gate is opening. more men are probably coming to stop us.”
oh.
you tilt your head to look behind her, and just like she said, the gate opens to reveal–
not men, south.
“son of a bitch,” you whisper, letting go of tex and standing straight, your hand hovering over your hollister in reflex.
south looks pissed, more than usual. you follow tex’s lead, walking side by side to confront the raging freelancer.
you notice too late that she has a fucking grenade launcher, and you’re sent flying as you try to dodge her oncoming attacks.
thank god, or maybe, thank north for stepping in at the time that he did.
once tex leaves, probably on her way to the director, things escalate. south goes batshit with the grenades, and north does his best to counter her.
not wanting to interrupt the family reunion (you really need to know what their family holidays were like), you decide to branch off to find york.
when you find maine making his way to where tex just left, you inwardly curse. of course you got stuck with the brute.
you don’t even bother putting up that much of a fight, knowing whatever you do is pointless and a waste of energy against someone like him. you’ve never won against him, so what’s this fight going to change? you figured that after he slammed you into the wall, nearly knocking you unconscious, he’d leave you alone to continue whatever he was set out to do.
no, life never worked out that way for you. when he ripped off your helmet, you had already accepted your fate. if the searing pain of your AI being taken from your nape wasn’t enough to make you want to die, him pulling out his gun and aiming it at your head did.
apparently, there is one thing you’ve forgotten since becoming a freelancer.
your love for allison, your will to live for her, will never amount to maine’s thirst for power.
hope youve been doing okay <333 also hope you got to watch rvb: restoration and that it Wasnt a terrible experience for you <3333
hey anon!!! i’ve been doing sooo good, my semester is over so i can finally 100% focus on finishing the requests that have been piling up 😭 (so sorry for the wait guys HAHA, i bit off more than i could chew and started like 5 requests at once, i hate myself !!! but don’t let that stop you from submitting anything …. )
as for watching rvb, im SOOOO mad they hid it behind a paywall on youtube, so i havent had any chance to rewatch any of the seasons, not even the new one :’)
i’ve seen so many of my moots repost about it and im sooooo excited to watch it (and also terrified), so if any of you have any recommendations on where to watch it now,,,, please help,,,, i beg,,,,
Hey there girl, how's everything going??? Hope you are having a great day (or night:))
hey girl!!!! i'm doing really good!! just got on spring break so I'll finally have time to finish up all the requests everyone has been submitting !<3 hope you're doing well anon!!
Hi! Can i have prompt 21 from fluff/humor category? I have this idea about Grif being jealous of fem!RedTeam!reader friendship with Bitters. Like they get on very well and Bitters might even have some crush on reader, but Grif have unspoken feelings for her too and that is making him jealous and upset.
Gosh, I hope it doesnt sound weird.
Thanks for your works!!!
prompt: “are you jealous? want me all to yourself, do you?”
pairing: grif x redteam!reader, slight bitters x reader
summary: ever since you’ve been recruited into the new republic to save the rest of your team, you’ve gotten awfully close to bitters. grif doesn’t approve of the new friendship you two have made.
warnings: fem!reader, swearing, mutual pinning, tucker not being able to read the room, terrible communication skills!!!, all lowercase
word count: 1.2k (short but sweet!)
notes: thank you so much for the request!! it really means a lot <3 not my best work but i enjoyed making it nonetheless! let me know what you guys think :)
-
“simmons, i’m telling you, she’s basically in love with him! she hasn’t left his side since he treated her to the dining hall!”
“grif, the food is free here. he wasn’t paying for anything.”
“maybe she likes cheap guys! i’m cheap! i could take her to the dining hall and we’d have a great time!”
“i think we need to re-evaluate your idea of a good time with a woman…”
the sound of their conversation travels through the cave as they make their way to the training grounds, supposedly to give their ‘orders’ to the new team they had to look after.
tucker, caboose, and the other lieutenants are already there once they arrive.
you and bitters arrive shortly after, walking side by side. you’re laughing at something he’s saying, and grif’s scowl deepens.
“see simmons? in love.”
you see grif as you walk closer to the group and brighten instantly. “grif! god, do i have a story for you! you wouldn’t believe what bitters just told me!”
simmons cringes inwardly when he sees grif tense.
maybe this was a bigger issue than he thought.
-
“–and then wash came in! you should’ve seen his reaction!”
“uh huh.”
“god it was so funny!”
“i bet.”
“and then bitters–”
“yeah okay, i get it. he’s funny. is that all?”
you give him a confused smile. “uh..what?”
“i just don’t see why you have to talk about him all the time! it’s not like we see him every day!” you’re left shocked as he continues, “if he’s so funny, just go hang out with him instead!”
“grif wait-”
before you can even get another word in, he’s storming out of the building to god knows where.
probably the mess hall.
“…the fuck is his problem?”
-
“and then he just stormed out! can you believe it?” you’re seated on the floor of the training ground, having just finished an intense drill led by wash.
“what’s up with him?” bitter replies, seated next to you.
“i wonder if i did anything to make him mad? we’ve always been on good terms… what could’ve set him off?” you lean back on your hands, looking up at the ceiling, “i did eat some of his food at the mess hall a few days ago.. maybe that’s it?”
“could be,” he feeds, sounding uninterested in the topic.
“but we always share, that can’t be it!”
“does it really matter?”
you turn to him, a small frown on your face, “what do you mean? of course it matters!”
“i mean, do you really think he’s going to stay mad at you? he’s too lazy to hold a grudge.” bitters looks at you with a small smirk, “plus, you have me. isn’t that enough?” he sounds a bit nervous.
“yeah… i guess you’re right. hopefully he gets over whatever he’s mad at soon.”
-
“dude, what the fuck is his problem?” tucker is sitting next to simmons, watching grif stare daggers into the back of bitters head as you and him laugh at another table in the mess hall.
“he thinks she likes bitters. i’m trying to tell him he’s imagining things.” simmons sighs and takes another scoop of food. he's been dealing with this all weak, he needs a break.
“what? no way, she does not have the hots for bitters, of all people.”
grif perks up, looking at tucker, “why? did she say something?”
“what? no, it’s obvious. come on guys, it’s bitters. he’s lazy, boring, and never does anything he’s asked!”
“…”
“…”
“w-what? why are you guys staring at me like that? am i wrong?” all grif does is groan, turning his head to stare at you again.
“nice job, idiot.” simmons mutters.
“okay, not my fault,” tucker puts his hands up defensively, “but still, she totally doesn’t like him. i know when a chick likes a guy, trust me.”
“how can you even tell?”
tucker starts to list examples off on his hand, “if she likes him, she’ll spend all her time with him, find everything he says funny, and probably share intimate details about herself with him.” as he speaks, your laugh is heard again.
grif abruptly stands up, walking over to where you’re seated.
“…”
“…”
“i’m glad i’ve never had to ask you for any advice.”
“shut up.”
-
your gaze has secretly been set on grif the whole time, perking up when he stands and walks over to you. he stops on the opposite side of the table, a look of determination in his eyes.
“grif! what’s up? everything okay?”
“can we talk?” he pushes out, his fingers twitching slightly.
“uh yeah! of course!” when you make no move to get up, he narrows his eyes at bitters.
“alone.”
bitters lets out a small scoff, frowning. you’re confused as you stand up, following grif out of the mess hall, waving to tucker and simmons on the way out.
tucker gives a mock salute and simmons mouths ‘good luck’.
what’s their deal?
you follow grif out as he leads you to the side of the building, turning on his heel and facing you. it’s silent for a moment.
he takes a deep breath, before talking, “i’m sorry i’ve been… avoiding you lately. i’ve had a lot of stuff on my mind and i haven’t been the best… friend to you.”
you smile, just happy that he’s talking to you again. “it’s okay. did anything happen? i was worried i did something.”
he gulps before continuing, “seeing you hanging out with bitters all of the time, doing stuff we always do, made me a bit upset, i guess. i didn’t–don’t– like seeing you with him.”
your head tilts, not picking up on the cue he was giving you. you chuckle softly, “what, are you jealous? want me all to yourself, do you?”
“yes.”
“i–oh– what?” your tongue twists, you feel the tips of your ears burn.
“i’m saying i like you, and i hate seeing you with bitters. he’s trying to take you away from me.”
your mouth gapes open, completely shocked from the turn of events, “you… like me?”
“since the first time we convinced simmons his non-existent cat died.”
you’re left standing there speechless, your mouth twitching before it breaks out into a huge smile, “seriously?”
“look, if you like bitters, i won’t get mad. i just need to have a long talk with hi– oomph!” he’s cut off when your arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, crushing him in a hug.
“you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to hear that!”
“i-what?” he’s the one left speechless now as you let go, staring deeply into his eyes.
“i like you too! i have for a while.”
grif freezes, staring at you in shock, “r-really? you aren’t messing with me?”
you give a confused smile, “messing with you? are you kidding? i was so scared that i was being too obvious around you! don’t even get me started on tucker’s advice–”
his lips smash against yours, hands coming up to rest on your jaw. your eyes widen, but you get over your shock quickly as you kiss him back slowly. it’s clumsy and awkward, teeth clashing and accidental nose bumping. it’s the best kiss you’ve ever had.
slowly, as if not wanting to, your lips part from each other. his eyes flutter to yours, a nervous smile stretching on his face.
“to make up for lost time… how about we skip training and head back to your room? i found out where these guys store their emergency rations.”
you press your lips against his, smiling through the kiss. you pull away, winking, “i’ll go distract kimball.”
